her faultless form and gracefu' air;
ilk feature—auld nature
declar'd that she could do nae mair:
hers are the willing chains o' love,
by conquering beauty's sovereign law;
and still my chloris' dearest charm—
she says, she lo'es me best of a'.
let others love the city,
and gaudy show, at sunny noon;
gie me the lonely valley,
the dewy eve and rising moon,
fair beaming, and streaming,
her silver light the boughs amang;
while falling; recalling,
the amorous thrush concludes his sang;
there, dearest chloris, wilt thou rove,
by wimpling burn and leafy shaw,
and hear my vows o' truth and love,
and say, thou lo'es me best of a'.